


Reclaiming

by nothingeverlost



Series: The Librarian and the Bobbie [6]
Category: Hamish MacBeth (TV), Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: F/M, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-21
Updated: 2013-02-21
Packaged: 2017-11-30 00:56:47
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,000
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/693523
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nothingeverlost/pseuds/nothingeverlost
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“They’re just pieces of metal. Not much different than a bracelet.”  She trembled a little as she ran her thumb over the cuff, but all he noticed was the way the motion stretched the tendon in her wrist, highlighting the ugly yellow of her bruises, still not faded.  It had been an almost identical set of cuffs that had left the marks on her pale skin.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Reclaiming

**Author's Note:**

> Follow up to the fic 'Chained'

“I’ll wash the dishes,” Hamish insisted as he cleared the table. “You cooked.”

“I reheated stew, sweetie. That’s not really cooking.”

“And rinsing two bowls isn’t really washing up. You can add a log to the fire if it makes you feel like the chores are more evenly divided.” He paused for a moment to kiss the top of her head. She tilted her head back enough that he ended up kissing her forehead.

“Better hurry; you know how hard it is to get Jock to move once he’s settled on the sofa,” Belle teased.

“I think I’ll manage.” He watched her leave the room, staring at the empty doorway after she was out of sight. It had been a week since he’d killed Jones and freed her from the closet where the bastard had imprisoned her. He’d taken her to Doc’s and then brought her home with him that night. She’d slept in his bed every night since and made no mention of going back to her cottage. Maybe at some point he would need to bring it up, but he was half hoping that she’d simply settle in and forget about the fact that she had a home anywhere else. Already they’d found a routine that was more domestic than what it had been a week ago, when dinner was a few nights a week and not every one. She took the first shower and he found that he didn’t mind finding a bra hanging on the knob on the back of the door. They’d even gone grocery shopping together yesterday.

It didn’t take more than a couple of minutes to wash the dishes and put them away. He checked to see that Wee Jock’s water dish was filled as well and the back door was locked; barring an emergency the rest of the evening belonged to him and Belle. He had a new western to read, and there was little that was more relaxing than reading while Belle leaned against his chest and read her own book.

The moment he stepped into the living room he knew that he wouldn’t be relaxing with a book.

“Belle?” Rather than sitting on the sofa, as he’d expected, she stood by the table where he’d dropped his things when he’d come in. He’d meant to put them away, but dinner was ready before he’d done more than put away his gun. Along with his key and pad of blank tickets were the standard issue handcuffs he always carried. Or rather they had been on the table. Now Belle held them, folded in half so the doubled loop of metal fit perfectly in her hand.

“Sweetheart?” He wrapped his arms around her from behind, drawing her close and resting his chin on her shoulder. The night he’d killed the man called Jones, who she’d referred to as Hook, it had taken hours of holding her before she’d relaxed her muscles. She was almost as tense now as she had been then, after the doc had tended to her.

“They’re just pieces of metal. Not much different than a bracelet.” She trembled a little as she ran her thumb over the cuff, but all he noticed was the way the motion stretched the tendon in her wrist, highlighting the ugly yellow of her bruises, still not faded. It had been an almost identical set of cuffs that had left the marks on her pale skin.

“You won’t ever wear them again,” he swore. Not the ones he had in his file cabinet as evidence, not the ones she held, and not any other. He didn’t know everything about her past, but he knew that she’d been locked up against her will and for no reason. He’d failed her once, with Jones. He’d never let that happen again.

She shook her head as she turned, resting her hand on his chest, the handcuffs sandwiched between her palm and his sweater. “I want you to help me with something, Hamish.”

“Anything.” His lips brushed against her forehead, sealing his promise. 

“I want you to put these handcuffs on me.” She looked at him with eyes that were almost calm. He’d seen her, though, when she’d been scared and she couldn’t hide it from him.

“No.” He tried to take the cuffs from her. She didn’t let go. “Belle.”

“They’re just a thing. A tool that you use for your job, Hamish. I don’t want to be scared of them.” He watched as she drew her shoulders back, trying to stand as if nothing bothered her. He’d seen her do the same thing, the day they’d met.

“But you are, love, and that’s understandable considering.” He brushed her hair away from her face. His fingertips caressed her jawline as his palm settled against her cheek. “There’s nothing wrong with it.”

“But I don’t have to be afraid.” Her lips against his were gentle, but once she parted her mouth and touched his lower lip with her tongue he forgot all about gentleness. He forgot, too, about their conversation until the kiss ended and he felt the weight of the cuffs in his hand. Somehow as he’d lost himself in her taste she’d slipped them to him.

“I can’t…”

“Every time someone’s put these on me they’ve been trying to take my freedom. They’ve been trying to hurt me.” Her hand covered his, stopping him from tossing the cuffs into the corner of the room as he’d intended.

“I would never.” Just the idea of hurting her made his stomach turn.

“I know, love. That’s why I need you to be the one to help me.” His shirt collar felt tight for a moment; he looked down just in time to see his tie fall to the floor. 

“The only memories connected to handcuffs are negative, but I need to make a memory that is positive.” Her nimble fingers undid the first two buttons of his shirt. “Please Hamish? I don’t want people like Hook to have power over me.”

“He’s dead.” He’d never touch her again. His eyes flicked to her temple, but the wound of a week ago was at her hairline and not visible. He could still see it, though, if he closed his eyes. It had only needed a single stitch from Doc, but that hadn’t mattered. She’d been hurt, and he hadn’t been able to stop it.

“He is, and I need to exorcise the memories of him. When I see handcuffs, Hamish, I want to think of you touching me. I want to remember straining against them from pleasure, not pulling on them because of fear. I want to think of our bed, not the closet he locked me in.” The shirt he wore was an older one, oft washed and the material soft. Buttons slipped through button holes with barely a touch. Three more, and she was able to rest her palm against his chest just above his heart.

“Ours?” The single word threw him, perhaps more than the handcuffs had. She’d spoken, a few times this week, of meeting him ‘at home’ but she’d never laid claim to anything so possessively before. “Our bed?”

“I didn’t mean it like that. That is, it doesn’t have to be that, if you don’t want it to be. I know it’s only been…”

“I want.” He silenced her with a finger, and then his own lips against her. “I don’t want you to go back to your cottage. I want you to be here, with me. Our bed. Our room.”

“You’d share your home with me, Hamish MacBeth?” There was the slightest glimmer of tears in her eyes before she blinked them away.

“I’d share everything that I have, Belle.” He’d known since that day on the beach that he needed her in his life, but it hadn’t been until Jones had taunted him with the possibilities of finding Belle dead that he’d realized just how much of his life she already was. “I love you.”

“And I love you.” Her head rested against his chest, and for long moments they just stood there in complete comfort with each other. It was Belle who moved first, her hand moving down his forearm until she touched the handcuffs still, surprisingly, in his grip. “We can talk about this another night. Let’s put them away for now.”

“If you get scared you’ll tell me and I can take them off, can’t I?” She trusted him, more than he sometimes felt that he deserved. He had to trust her just as much, and this was something she needed from him.

“I promise that I will tell you everything. We’ll keep the key on the nightstand; you can have them off in seconds if we need to, sweetheart.” Instead of taking the cuffs her fingers wrapped around his wrist. She took a step backwards, in the direction of the bedroom. Another step back, and he had to take a halting step forward to keep up with her. He didn’t give a thought to the tie left abandoned on the floor, or even the dog curled up in the corner of the couch.

“Tell me what you want, Belle. What you need.” In the bedroom he left both the cuffs and key on the nightstand; there would be time for that in a little while.

“Touch me? I want to forget about metal and cold, and just know what it is to have you touching me everywhere. Your hands are so warm.” She turned away from him, delicate fingers holding up her hair. He brushed his lips against the nape of her neck before finding the zipper and dragging it down. There were times when he teased, undoing her clothing in inches, following the path of newly revealed skin with his mouth. Tonight was not one of those times; he needed to remove the barriers between them, to have nothing but skin against skin. It was only moments before her dress was on the floor. His own shirt, almost unbuttoned, followed just after. Her bra lasted only seconds before it joined the pile of clothing.

“So beautiful,” he muttered as he pulled her to him, her back to his chest. His hands skimmed her shoulders and collarbone before taking the weight of a breast in each one. He watched as his thumbs flicked over her nipples time and again, calluses against the impossibly soft flesh that hardened as he teased. Her shoulderblades rubbed against him as she arched her back, reminding him of a kitten. She could purr, if he touched her just right. She could also curl up in the sun for hours.

She loved the sun, his Belle. Sometimes she was scared of the night, but she always smiled in the sun.

“I always feel safe, when you’re touching me. Like all the world is suddenly too far away to touch us.” She twisted and turned, not breaking his hold but somehow leaning back enough that her lips grazed against the underside of his jaw. Another kiss, and this time there was a tug as she used her teeth to nip at his skin. 

“I will always keep you safe, Belle.” He wanted to believe it so much that he did. He hadn’t been able to keep the sociopath away from her, but he’d make sure that the bastard could never touch her again. He would do the same with anyone else should they dare to harm Belle. He would keep her safe and he’d give his all to keep her happy.

“We’ll keep each other safe.” She dragged a hand away from her breast, kissing his palm first before turning it over and kissing his knuckles. There were still a few scabs where he’d bloodied himself fighting the stranger who had tried to take Belle from him. She’d tried to apologize, the first time she’s seen that he was hurt. He hadn’t let her; he’d have done the same for anyone in town that had been hurt by the man. He would have done even more, if he could. No one hurt the people he swore to protect and cared about.

Her neck, pale and slender, was arched. He did not even try to resist the urge to taste her skin, to draw it into his mouth. Hamish did not stop at a small nip as she had; she tasted the way the mountains smelled, just after the rain, and he fed on that taste, not stopping until at deep red mark showed just below her pulse. His mark, and even when she worth the thick sweaters and the scarves necessary for the frigid weather he would know that it was there. Not the he possessed her, but that she allowed him to touch her without qualm. That she trusted him to cherish her, not hurt her.

“You’re wearing too much, Hamish.” She touched the mark with a finger, smiling up at him as she turned. It made his breath hitch, that he’d left a mark on her and it only made her smile. He’d seen her too often this week, looking at the bruises on her wrists and frowning.

“Maybe you’d like to do something about that?” he challenged. He kissed her fingertip as it rested over the hickey. A laugh welled up at the smirk she gave him. It felt good; he couldn’t remember if he’d laughed in the last week and a half, since the first time he’d met Jones and had seen Belle’s reaction to him.

“Maybe I’d rather start here.” She took a step back, no longer touching him. Her blue eyes did not look away from his face as she hooked her thumbs on the waistband of her knickers and dragged them down. When gravity took hold she was left wearing nothing but the necklace that she never took off. For just a moment his eyes flicked to her left hand. Someday, he told himself, she’d have a ring that she never removed either.

“And while I’m at it…” She turned, and leaned forward to tug at the blankets on the bed, pulling them down. Her legs were slightly spread, her ass so perfect and taunting as he watched. If it weren’t for the damn cuffs he would keep her there, his hands on her hips as he took her from behind and told her just what the sight of her ass did to him. 

She laughed, and he was certain she was doing it on purpose. If her goal was to get him out of his clothes it worked well; he shucked his trousers and pants, glad that he’d gotten rid of his shoes when he’d gotten home. 

“Our bed,” she said as she turned, and though she smiled still there was something solemn about it. 

“Ours.” He drew her into his arms, and for just a moment there was nothing sexual about the hold. It was, perhaps, more akin to a meeting of spirit rather than body.

The moment passed, though, and he was all too aware that they were both nude, and her skin was so warm against his. 

“Thank you.” She kissed his cheek, and then his lips. Once again her felt the cold press of metal against his hand. She’d somehow picked up the cuffs as she’d turned down the bed. 

“If it gets to be too much…” he started.

“Vanilla.”

“What?” His brows furrowed as he looked from her to the cuffs and back again.

“A safe word. They say you shouldn’t use ‘no’ or ‘stop’ because it can get confusing. So if I say vanilla that means it’s too much and I need a minute, or to ask you to take off the cuffs or something, okay?” Her cheeks were suddenly a pink that spread down her neck to her chest.

“They say?” It was his turn to smirk as he touched her collar bone. For a moment it was white with the pressure of his touch, but it returned to the pink of her blush.

“I’ve read things. My friend Ruby had some interesting book, and I have a tendency to pick up and read any book that I find lying around,” she explained with a shrug.

“I figured that out when I found you reading the manual for my fax machine, love, and knew the traffic code for Lackie’s parking violation.” He’d caught her with some strange reading materials. At some point he was going to have to remember to probe a little more about what she’d read in her friend’s books. Now, though, was about something else. “So if anything gets to be too much you say vanilla and I stop.”

“It won’t be too much. I trust you.” She tilted her head back in the pose she used when she was not quite as confident as she wanted people to believe. Hoping bravery would follow, she’d explained to him once. Since she was one of the bravest people he knew he found it hard to believe she thought that she needed more.

“And I trust you to tell me if you need to stop, even if it’s just for a minute.” The cuffs bit against his hand as he held them too tightly.

“You have my promise.” She sat on the edge of the bed, watching him for a moment with clear blue eyes that never lied to him. And then she leaned back, head on the pillows, body stretched out with nothing to cover it except strands of hair on her shoulders. Her arms were raised above her head, wrists crossed. For a moment Hamish could only think about how the position made her back arch and her breasts more rounded, but then he remembered. He needed a moment first.

“I’ll have all of you,” he said as he knelt at the end of the bed, one hand on her ankle. The room was dim, lit only by the bedside lamp, and it made her skin glow almost as well as the flames from the fireplace a few weeks before, when they’d made love on the rug. He bent to press his lips to her calf, his tongue peeking through to trace a path to the back of her knee. Their hikes in the mountains had given her muscles more definition than they’d had a few months before.

She squirmed when he lathed the inside of her thigh with his tongue. “Hamish.”

“Touch you everywhere, remember?” He looked up at her as he ran a hand over her leg, from hip to calf and back again. She trembled, but he did not worry that it was from the cold. The wind howled outside, but the little building was weathertight and well heated.

Her lower lips was caught beneath her teeth as she nodded. “I’m just a little nervous.”

“About these?” He sat back on his legs and dangled the cuffs, holding onto one loop so that the other swayed. When all of her focus was on them, not him, he slowly lowered his hand. With a steadiness that belied his nerves he held them over her chest, managing to just barely brush her nipple with the lowest curve of the metal. The smallest turn of his wrist sent the cuffs swinging like a pendulum. Her gasps when the cuff lightly skimmed her nipple each time made his already straining erection beg for attention. Hamish ignored it; this was about Belle, not him. “They’re just a thing, Belle. A tie, a belt, a silk scarf, handcuffs; all of them are just things, with no intent to harm you.”

“Touch me, Hamish. Please. I need you.” She didn’t take her eyes off the cuffs, but her mouth opened a little, freeing her lower lip. With a hand on either side of the pillow he lowered himself until their faces almost touched.

“You have me, Belle.” He drew her lower lip into his mouth, suckling it gently, running his tongue over the flesh. Her breath hitched, her body moving just enough that her stomach brushed against his erection, making his belly twist with the need to be inside of her. “Give me your hand, sweetheart.”

“I’m not scared.” There was a quiver in her voice as she spoke, but her hand was steady as she cupped her palm to his cheek. Hamish turned just enough to bathe the inside of her wrist with his tongue.

“I think I could survive on nothing but the taste of you.” With licks and nips he encircled her wrist, covering every place the handcuff would touch with his mouth first. For good measure he sucked at the base of her thumb until there was a paler version of the mark he had made on her neck. “Are you ready, Belle?”

“I think if this is what getting handcuffed is like with you, Hamish MacBeth, I might have to turn to a life of crime.” She took a steadying breath, and nodded. 

“I can think of worse things than having you permanently in my cell. Though people might talk, the police constable fraternizing with a criminal.” With more care than he’d ever shown handcuffing someone he closed the cuff around Belle’s wrist one click at a time. He stopped when they were tight enough that her hand could not slip through, but they still moved easily around her wrist.

“The people of Lochdubh could use some new gossip to…” Hamish covered her mouth with his own, not caring about what they would say down in the pub. They talked enough already, about them, but they also accepted Belle and asked after her everyday, concerned about her welfare. Esme had organized the woman to bring dinners around, and tonight had actually been the first meal Belle had made. He wondered if she understood, yet, that she an incomer but not an incomer, when it came to how the people of the village saw her.

She was well distracted from whatever it was she’d been staying, and from the handcuff as well, her tongue caressing his. Her still free arm wrapped around him, pulling him closer until their bodies were sandwiched together. It was a hard thing, not to just slip inside of her then, to let the single metal loop against her skin be enough. He could distract her easily, but he’d made a promise. And he had a taste for it now, the idea of giving her pleasure, in making the handcuffs a thing between them instead of a power that other people had over her.

They were both breathless when the kiss ended. He rolled to one side, her hand sliding from his back, making it easy to catch. His fingers covered the yellowed bruises as he gently eased her hand up over her head again. “Breathe for me, love.”

“I love you.” Her muscles were relaxed as he held both of her wrists in one hand, feeling her breath against his chest as he hovered over her. The cuffs looped through a slat in the headboard without too much difficulty, and then it was time.

“I love you too.” He had to tilt his head to be able to kiss her wrist, but he did, feeling her pulse race against his lips. And then he let the cuff close around her wrist, binding her into place. Like Jones, like the woman she only called Regina, possibly like others that she hadn’t told him about, He’d bound her. Restrained her. 

He wasn’t like the others.

“Hamish, look at me.” He was reluctant to move enough to see her eyes, but her voice beckoned and he could not resist. He forced himself to let go of her wrist and ease back a few inches to look at her.

Sometimes it took his breath away, to look at her. It wasn’t just that she was beautiful, though she was. It was her eyes, and the incredible depth to them. The wisdom in them. The love shining from them.

“This is what I want, Hamish. You’re not hurting me or taking anything. You’re giving me something back.” She could not wrap her arms around him, but her foot hooked around the back of his leg, not only holding him firmly but also spreading her legs wider. He hadn’t realized the tension he’d carried until it began to drain away. 

“Giving you something?” He smiled, and aimed for the ‘cocky’ she sometimes teased him about being. His hand slid down her body to her wet heat, fingers nesting in her curls. “I wonder what that might be?”

“I need…”

“Tell me, Belle. You can’t show me, not with your hands, but you have your words. Tell me.” They’d tried to take away her power, she’d said, by using the cuffs. He wanted her to know that she still had control. He only wanted to give, not take. “I’ll do anything if you just say the words.”

“Your fingers. They’re so close.” She lifted her head to look down, to see his hand resting against her curls. “Not close enough. I want to feel them.”

“Inside you?” He waited giving her a chance to tell him just what she wanted..

“Inside.” She licked her lower lip. “And against my… my clit.”

“Keep talking, Belle.” She was tight, as he slid two fingers into her, tighter than she usually was, but wet too. The tension that did not show so plainly on her face made itself known in her muscles. Just the barest of touches to her clit and her hips bucked up. 

“Your thumb, like you do sometimes. Circles.” She tugged at the cuffs, though whether because she’d forgotten or was testing he did not know. He waited for her word, but it did not come. She was determined, his Belle. She knew what she wanted. 

“You’re so slick, love. So hot. Can you feel how easily I move inside of you?” His thumb on her clit, as she’d asked, had helped to loosen her a little. He would have added his tongue, except that he wanted to watch her. And she had not asked.

“I feel you, Hamish. Deeper. I need to feel you deeper inside me.” Her voice was pitched higher, more breathy than usual. Her heel dug into the back of his thigh, trying to pull him closer. Hamish curled his fingers, aiming not for deeper, but for that sweet spot that would, he hoped, give her just what she needed.

“Does it feel good?” His eyes flicked upwards to the cuffs that were, at the moment, all but ignored.

“Almost… I could almost fly. Rainbows.” Her hips arched upwards as she keened. “Please, just a little…”

“You are safe, Belle. Just let go. Let me see.” He moved his fingers more quickly inside of her, his thumb flicking lightly over her clit again and again. Her arms trembled, and he reached up with his free hand to grasp one of her hands in his own. The cuff was as hard against his wrist as her skin was soft. “Come for me, darling.”

“Yes.” Her inner walls tightened, squeezing his fingers and making his cock twitch again. She cried out his name as she came, her left leg thrashing and her right heel digging harder into his calf.

“That’s it, Belle.” He watched the orgasm wash over her features, and caught the last of it in a kiss, his tongue probing her mouth as his fingers slipped out of her. he could still taste the wine they’d had with dinner against her tongue, and the spicy sweetness that was her own taste.

“Let me take these off now?” he asked, one finger slipping between the handcuff and her wrist. He could feel her pulse against his skin.

“After.” Her fingers curled, one brushing against his knuckle.

“After?” he asked?

“After.” She wrapped her legs around him, pulling him closer, raising her hips until they were almost aligned. “You wanted me to tell you, Hamish, and this is what I want. Make love to me. Come with me.”

“Anywhere.” He had to release her hand, but kissed her once before leaning back and holding her with a hand on each hip. She looked at him with complete trust as he joined their bodies together. “Perfect.”

“I can’t touch you, but I can feel you. Everywhere, Hamish. I can feel you and there’s no room to be scared.” There was peace in her eyes, mixed with the arousal that darkened them.

“They’re ours now, Belle, the handcuffs. No more fear.” He moved with slow, deep thrusts, wanting this moment to last. “It’ll be your fault if I get a hard on next time I try to arrest someone, though.”

“Maybe I’ll have to turn to that life of crime after all.” Belle laughed, a gentle sound that was more relaxed than he’d heard in more than a week.

“Heaven help me.” His laughter mixed with hers as he pushed them closer and closer to the edge, and the complete freedom that pure pleasure brings.

When they were both spent he allowed himself only a moment before reaching for the keys on the bedside table. “Now?”

“Please.” She stayed still as he unlocked the cuffs, kissing each wrist in turn. The moment she was free, though, she wrapped her arms around him and held on tight. “I missed touching you.”

“Aye. I missed it as well.” He tossed both cuffs and keys on the table and turned off the light before pulling the comforter over them. Cocooned in the bed, he wrapped his arms just as tightly around her. “No nightmares tonight?” he asked softly.

“I think you chased them all away,” Belle said sleepily. it wasn’t long until her muscles relaxed and her breathing deepened. For the first time in a week she slept soundly.

“Our bed,” Hamish mused, a smile on his lips as he fell asleep holding her.

Neither of them woke until morning.


End file.
